


'Cause Blue Eyes

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Platonic Soulmates, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12580368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Soulmates should be forever, at least that's what they say. But they aren't always, and sometimes you're left picking up the pieces, trying to figure out where to go.





	1. All the Lights on and You are Alive

**Author's Note:**

> My take on a soulmate AU in three parts, bear with me. I

It didn’t usually happen so early. Middle school sometimes, high school more often, college most frequently, and some, not until much, much later. If at all of course. 

Rafael Barba was nothing if not precocious. Not that he had even believed in soulmates before, because if he was anything besides precocious, it was skeptical. He had spent too much time watching his father scream at his mother for not having the kitchen clean, or dinner on the table. And he may have only been five years old, but he knew enough to know what the thuds and shrieks meant when he was sent to his room early. 

Even if there was such thing as soulmates, he certainly had no interest if that was how they treated each other. There wasn’t any way to tell, anyway. No marks, no tattoos, no flash of light, just a feeling, allegedly. To Rafi Barba, five years old, it didn’t make much sense. 

That was, until a bright fall day on the playground at Grant Avenue Elementary School in the Bronx. The leaves had already started to fall, but it was unseasonably warm, and Rafael was flushed cheeks, running around with Eddie and Alex, kicking a soccer ball during recess. The three amigos, three musketeers, they almost looked like they could be brothers. They had bonded, the very first day of kindergarten, giggling in Spanish in the corner of the classroom. 

Eddie kicked the ball a little too hard, and it went sailing over Rafael’s head, smacking into the back of a little sandy blond head. Rafael’s eyes widened and he set off at a run over to the boy, a mouthful of half formed apologies. The little blond turned, a hand rubbing his head but a bright smile on his face, and Rafael felt the wind knocked out of him like a swift punch to the gut. He froze, feet suddenly glued to the ground, his jaw dropping open. 

“Cat got your tongue?" The boy smiled brightly, picking up the soccer ball and Rafael could hear just a hint of an Italian accent. He just shook his head, every word he had collected into his somewhat extensive vocabulary in the past five years escaped him. He could hear Eddie and Alex calling for him, but he couldn’t look away, gaze still locked on the sandy hair, and ice blue eyes. The little boy held out the soccer ball, and Rafael reached out to take it, their hands brushing against each other, just barely. The little boy’s gaze never faltered, staring back into Rafi’s bright green eyes, but Rafael felt electricity shoot up his arm. 

“Did you feel that?” He breathed, eyes impossibly wide with surprise. 

The boy just nodded, “you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” he asked Rafael, the smile plastered to his face even wider than before. 

“Soulmates,” they chorused together before dissolving into giggles. 

“What’s your name?” The sandy blond boy had asked, letting go of the soccer ball, but Rafael hadn’t thought to catch it, and it bounced a few times between their feet. 

“Rafael Barba,” he replied, attempting to sound as proper as possible, but a grin still tugged at the corners of his mouth, cheeks red from laughing. “But my friends call me Rafi.” 

“What should your soulmate call you?” the other boy giggled. 

“Rafi is still good,” he nodded affirmatively with a laugh, “what’s your name?”

“Giovanni Mancuso,” the little boy puffed out his chest proudly. “You can call me Gio though, everybody does. You’re not in first grade, right? I’ve never seen you before.” The words practically turned into babble as Gio realized that he was talking too much. 

Rafael just shook his head. “I’m only in kindergarten,” a frown spread across his face suddenly, the realization hitting him that it was possible Gio wasn’t going to feel the same way about him. His Mami and Papi were soulmates after all, and he was nothing but mean. “Is that okay? I mean that I’m littler than you?” Gio just laughed. 

“Of course its okay, we’re soulmates, right? That means we’re gonna be stuck with each other forever.” Rafael just beamed.

They were instant best friends, though given the circumstances, that seemed quite natural. Eddie and Alex were a little miffed that their trio had become a quartet on the playground, but it meant that they had enough kids to pay two on two. And even though Rafi wasn’t really the best at soccer, he and Gio worked so well together that they were able to hold their own against the naturals. Gio walked Rafael home from school every day, insisted on carrying both of their backpacks, even though his own house was ten blocks in the other direction from school. 

“You don’t have to, you know, Gio, I can walk home with Eddie and Alex,” Rafael had said one day, half way to his little apartment in the projects. 

Gio just reached his gloved hand out, taking Rafael’s mittened hand. “Nah, that’s okay Rafi, I like knowing that you got home safe.” Gio smiled. When they made it back to Rafael’s he insisted that Gio wait on the front steps while he ran upstairs, and only a few minutes later, he rushed back down like a little tornado of excitement. 

“My mom said you could stay for dinner,” Rafael exclaimed with a wide smile. “I mean, if you want to, she’s making Cuban food, I don’t know if you like that I didn’t think to ask you…” his voice trailed off, suddenly unsure if he had overstepped. 

“Of course, Rafi,” Gio laughed at his eagerness. “I’ll eat anything, I just gotta call my ma and make sure that its okay.” Rafael beamed as he led Gio up the stairs. 

The years passed quickly, and Gio and Rafael only grew more inseparable. They ate lunch together at school, played on the playground together, walked home after school every day, they had dinner together at least once a week at Rafael’s house, and Gio brought all sorts of Italian baked goods for breakfast in the mornings, and on the weekends, they went on adventures. To the park, or hanging outside of Yankee Stadium trying to spot baseball players, or over to city island when it was warm out. 

Rafael had never been happier, even in the face of increased anger from his father; his parents fought more often, doors slammed so loudly that his walls rattled in his bedroom, and his mami would wake him up in the morning with a blooming black eye, or finger marks on her neck. He wanted nothing more than to help his mami, but all of that concern and worry and anxiety faded away when Gio took his hand, or smiled with his little front teeth missing in a dorky but radiant sort of way. 

He spent more and more time at Gio’s house. Gio’s older brothers all teased them, made fun of Rafi’s accent, the way his hair stuck up a bit in the back, and how he couldn’t help but correct people, but Gio assured him that really it just meant that they all liked him, and that was how brothers treated each other. Rafael wouldn’t have known, he didn’t even have cousins in the city, but he trusted Gio. 

Rafael was nine when his mother finally mustered up the courage to leave his dad. She woke him up just after midnight, and told him to pack a bag, quickly and quietly. His eyes barely had time to adjust as he threw as many clothes into his camp duffle back as he could. 

“Mami, where are we going? I have school tomorrow,” he asked in confusion, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes when he carried his bag and his teddy bear down the stairs to the front door.

“You’re going to miss a few days of school, Mijo,” she replied, ushering him into the car. 

“What? Mami? I can’t miss school, I have a social studies test tomorrow,” Rafael started as the car pulled away from the curb, only street lights illuminating the back of his mother’s head. 

“Lo siento, Mijo, I’m not sure if we’re going to come back at all. We’re going to go stay with Abuela for a little while,” she replied, but he could hear her voice shaking, wavering like she was trying to convince herself. 

“But that’s in Long Island,” Rafael replied quickly, the panic rising in his throat, “I need to talk to Gio.” He added urgently. “Mami can’t we stop so I can call him?” She shook her head. 

“You can call when we get to Abuela’s.”

He ended up calling Gio in the morning, let him know that there was no need to bring him breakfast, but he broke down into heaving sobs when Gio asked when he was coming back. “Hey, no, Rafi,” Gio had murmured over the phone. “Don’t cry please, it’ll be okay.” 

“I don’t know when we’re coming back,” Rafael had managed to get out between hiccups. 

“That’s okay, Rafi,” Gio was always a ray of sunshine, even when things seemed to be at their worst. “We’re soulmates, the world can’t keep us apart for too long.”

Rafael hiccupped again. “You’re right,” he sniffed, wiping tears away with his sleeve. 

“I love you Rafi, don’t forget that, okay? You can call me anytime until you come home.”

It was nearly four months later when Mrs. Barba found an apartment back in the Bronx, only three blocks away from Gio’s family home. And Rafael could barely contain his excitement when the car pulled into familiar territory. It was the end of August and the city was still draped in a sticky heat, but he burst out of the car the second it came to a full stop in front of their new apartment, and took off running down the street. He showed up at Gio’s front door, out of breath and sweating, but Gio threw the door open with a smile as wide as the city and pulled Rafael into a hug tight enough to squeeze the life out of him. 

They fell back into their routine with ease. Rafael’s mother reenrolled him in Grant Avenue Academy for the beginning of fifth grade, and Gio started sixth. They did their homework together after school, or went to the library, and Gio would pick out books, and they’d hide in a back corner, while Rafael would read aloud to Gio, with his head on Rafael’s lap. 

Seventh grade meant a new school for Gio, and aside from the four months in Long Island, it was the first time they weren’t in school together. Gio’s middle school was six blocks away, but school let out just early enough for him to make it to Rafael’s before dismissal if he ran the whole way there. 

It was an unseasonably warm day, the gloom of winter had just broken and the grass was just starting to perk up green when the dismissal bell rang in Rafael’s sixth grade classroom. He gathered his books and stuffed them in his backpack before rushing down to the steps outside. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar sandy blond hair. Gio sometimes didn’t make it right on time. Traffic, or badly timed lights, an old lady in his way. Rafael hadn’t been concerned until the crowd thinned and he was left standing alone on the steps. They had walked to school together in the morning, and had agreed to meet on the steps as usual. He took a seat on the stone steps and pulled out a book, figured he could kill time until Gio showed up. The sound of church bells across the street was what caught his attention again, pulling him out of the novel. He counted in his head. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Four.

Five. 

With a frown, he stuffed his book back in his bag. Something must have come up, he figured, maybe Gio’s mom had forgotten to tell him about an appointment. He set off home, alone, for the first time in over a year. He called the Mancuso’s as soon as he got home, but the phone rang a few times before the answering machine kicked in. He frowned again, but made a note to call again later. 

His self control really only lasted an hour before he called again, typing in the numbers on the telephone with absolute precision. No answer. Not even a machine. His brows furrowed with concern, and he grabbed his apartment key before leaving to walk the three blocks to the Mancuso’s apartment. But when he reached Gio’s block, all he could see was the read and blue flashes of light of police cars outside of his apartment. Rafael broke into a run, and didn’t stop until he reached the front door, banking his knuckles on the door so hard they started to split. 

It swung open after a few moments, and Gio’s mother stood in the doorway. She didn’t say anything, but the tearstained cheeks told him everything. 

“Where’s Gio? Rafael asked, his voice cracking, and he never would have imagined being so impolite to an adult, but there wasn’t time for formalities. 

“There was an accident,” her breath caught in her throat, voice raspy from crying, “A drive-by shooting, Gio…” she trailed of. “He was hit, gone in an instant.” 

Rafael just dropped to his knees, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “No,” his voice cracked in a sob. “No no no, he promised. He said forever.”


	2. But You Can't Point the Way to Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy.

Rafael Barba was a pragmatic man. He had forty-four years to develop that sort of stoic realism that allowed him to be such an effective prosecutor. He didn’t mince words, didn’t foster false hope, didn’t take cases he couldn’t win. 

And if you asked him if he had met his soulmate, he would declare in no uncertain terms that he didn’t buy into such childish nonsense. How could he believe, have faith, after everything that had happened? Instead he spent too much money on clothes and scotch, and he met with men and women who’s names he never bothered to learn in dark, smoke laden bars and he went home with them far too often, always their places, never his. He never spent the night, just returned to his empty apartment, casting his jacket and tie over an expensive but unused arm chair before crashing into bed for a few hours before rising to the smell of an automated coffee pot to start all over again. 

He hadn’t always been so pragmatic. He knew what they said about soulmates, even if no one could prove that it was true. That when a soul died, it was reincarnated that same day. 

February 28th, 1981. The day that Gio had been shot and killed in a drive-by, a gang related shooting, the perpetrator never brought to justice. 

February 28th, 1981. Presumably the day his soulmate had been reincarnated. Even at the time, Rafael knew what it would mean, an eleven-year age difference between them. He’d be twenty-nine when whoever it was now… would turn eighteen. But he couldn’t help but wonder when he saw sandy blond hair on the playground, or in the school yard. Even at twelve, the rational part of him reminded him that even reincarnated, his soulmate still wouldn’t be Gio, wouldn’t have grown up a few blocks down from him in the Bronx with five brothers and who parents who loved them all equally, wouldn’t have all of the memories that haunted Rafael whenever he closed his eyes. 

But still, he couldn’t help but hope. He finally confided in his mother when he was eighteen, in the car as she drove him to Cambridge to drop him off at Harvard. He’d never told anyone exactly what Gio meant to him, never told his mother how much it felt like he had lost a part of himself when Gio died. 

“Oh Mijo,” she had replied sadly, “I suspected, but I did not want to push you.” She looked over at him, sitting uncomfortably in the front seat, practically squirming.

“Was Papi really your soulmate?” Rafael had asked. They hadn’t talked about his father since he passed away when Rafael was sixteen. She had told him, matter-of-factly, and they attended the funeral in silence, and never mentioned him again. 

“He was Mijo, but life hardens us all. Maybe he was perfect for me when he was young, but he had a tough childhood, and he changed.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Do you believe souls are reincarnated, Mami?” Leaving the city had been a tough decision for him. There was nothing to suggest as such, but he always figured if his soulmate really had been reincarnated, that he’d be there somewhere, in the city. 

“I think the people we need always come back to us, some way or another. Maybe by reincarnation, but maybe in other ways.”

That hadn’t really discouraged Rafael though. He knew he had to wait, knew he’d have to bide his time. It made it easy to focus on school, easy to keep his head down and study, get good grades. He wasn’t entirely immune to the pull of intimacy, but it was easy enough to keep himself unattached when he knew the only person he could ever really love wasn’t ready yet. 

But the years passed. His twenties seemed to fly by, first with his Bachelor degree studies, and then with law school. He moved back to the city after that. Cambridge was nice, but he was a little Cuban boy from el barrio, and he never really felt at home there. Instead he got a job at a large firm in Manhattan, working in the litigation department. And again, he was grateful for the lack of any distractions, especially on Sunday evenings when he sat alone in a conference room in the office, pouring over documents to prepare for hearings and trials. 

He had the highest billables of any associate in the firm, and a success rate to back it up. No one was quite sure how he managed to do it, because Rafael was a powerhouse. He was the first one in, last one out if he even left the office at all, and no human should have been able to subsist on coffee like he did, but he didn’t just seem to subsist, but flourish. He made junior partner when he was only twenty-nine, four years after starting with the firm. It was in February, and he took the promotion as an excuse to finally leave the office early for once, on February 28th. 

He walked from the office rather than taking a cab, and he stopped by the bakery around the corner from his apartment he had moved into a few months earlier. He picked out a small cake, filled with cannoli cream, and some candles before making his way home. Rafael didn’t believe in god, but he hoped, somehow, someway, that whoever was out there could hear him. He lit the candles in his darkened apartment and pulled a folded, worn picture out of his wallet. 

It had been taken some twenty years ago, him and Gio with their arms slug around each other casually, bright, goofy smiles on their faces. Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like that, couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so whole and happy. He traced his thumb over the fading ink of Gio’s face. “Happy birthday,” he whispered aloud, just to put it out there, into the universe, and he blew out the candles. 

He was a little more open after that, knowing that whoever he, or she perhaps, was, a meeting could actually mean something. He frequented bars more often, let himself get dragged to social events, even sporting games in hopes of finally feeling that electricity that he had been craving since that fateful day in February. 

But the years passed unremarkably, and thirty grew closer to forty and Rafael Barba convinced himself more and more each passing day that what ever he had felt with Gio had been a passing childhood fantasy. The puppy love, infatuation, exclusive to the innocence of childhood, unable to be replicated. How could it be? After so many years of tortured melancholy?

He left the firm on this thirty-ninth birthday. He’d woken up just like any other day, had selected a navy blue suit and a powder pink shirt, matching floral grey tie and suspenders. And he stood in the bathroom to comb his unruly hair into place, but when he looked in the mirror, he was suddenly disgusted. 

That was what he had become. An apathetic old attorney who spent his days defending corporations who screwed people over, who took advantage of the kids of people he grew up with in el barrio. Gio would have been so disappointed, he couldn’t help but think to himself. So he picked up his cellphone and dialed the office number and quit. 

It was only a few months later when he landed a position with the DA’s office in Brooklyn, his experience and notoriety as a pitbull litigator had practically made it a sure thing. Even still, Rafael was never one to half ass anything, and he spent even more time on cases in the DA’s office than he had at the firm. He had made a name for himself, as an aggressive but effective prosecutor in only a few months, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe now, he was somebody that Gio could have been proud of. 

It was a year and a half later when he transferred to Manhattan. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what exactly had drawn him to request the lateral transfer. He liked Brooklyn well enough, it was young, hip, the kind of place one might run into a thirty-year old. Really, he had pretty much lost hope of ever reuniting with his soulmate, even if such things really did exist, but it still nagged at the back of his mind, the possibility.

Two and a half years passed working with Manhattan SVU, and Rafael could say that he had finally found a sort of existential peace. He had been blessed, for xix short years with the sort of love that books couldn’t dream of, and if that was all he was going to get, it would be enough. He loved his work, loved parading around the courtroom with the confidence to win and the skill and knowledge to see it through. And he loved the looks on their faces, the victims, when he managed to win a case for them. It was where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do. 

The day was like any other when he walked into the precinct. Well not exactly like any other, because Olivia had called him down, her voice cracking as she let him know it was about Ellie Porter. But still, in most regards, it was a perfectly ordinary day. He had case files in his hand and a scowl on his face when he marched into the bullpen, intent on heading straight into Liv’s office when a tall, lanky figure stepped in front of him. 

“Can I help you?” a grating Staten Island accent standing in his way. Rafael looked up, a biting reply forming on the tip of his tongue, but his eyes met icy blue, and he could have sworn that the god Zeus himself had hurled a bolt of lightening between his shoulder blades and straight through his chest. His mouth, for only the second time in his life, couldn’t form the words he had intended to say. 

“Who are you?” The Staten Island accent sounded less grating, and Rafael closed his mouth, trying to pull himself together as he took in the man in front of him, lanky, with that sandy blond hair that made his throat dry, and his heart beat a little faster, but the man’s smile was marred by a terrible mustache. 

“Rafael Barba, ADA,” Rafael managed to breath out, “who are you?” 

“Detective Dominick Carisi Junior, call me Sonny though,” He replied, holding out his hand, and Rafael was still stunned at how familiar the smile was. He took the man’s hand, and he glanced down to the contact before looking back up at the man-Sonny-wondering if he felt it too, like a static shock that traveled all the way to the pit of his stomach, every nerve ending in his body firing like the Fourth of July. 

“Woah,” was Sonny’s eloquent response, still gripping at Rafael’s hand, harder than before like he was afraid Rafael was going to pull away. “I didn’t think this was ever going to happen to me.” 

Rafael still couldn’t find the words, couldn’t figure out what to say. What was he supposed to say? _We’ve met before. Our souls have at least. You have no memories of it, but we spent six years together. You left me for thirty three years._ But Rafael knew it would sound even crazier than the idea of soulmates. So instead, he just took in a shaky breath, hand still clasping at Sonny’s just as afraid he’d pull away. “You felt it too?”


	3. So Sublime, When the Stars are Aligned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the third and final part of this little AU. I hope you enjoy it!

Sonny had just nodded in confirmation, they had both felt the surge of electricity, the static shock between them. But Rafael pulled his composure together quickly, or at least more quickly than Sonny, and bristled. 

“We can’t do this here.” He squared his jaw, teeth clenched, and he saw Sonny’s face fall for a moment. It wasn’t a guarantee. Not everyone believed in soulmates, but even those who did knew it didn’t always work out, Rafael’s parents were a pretty perfect example of that, so Rafael immediately recognized the distress. “I have to speak with your Sargent, and this isn’t the time, but,” he pulled a business card out of his pocket. “We should definitely talk about this,” he added, handing the card to Sonny, relieved when he saw Sonny’s face soften. 

The detective nodded mutely and took the business card from Rafael, tucking it carefully into his pocket as he searched for the words to say, but the ADA swept away into Liv’s office before Sonny had a chance to come up with a reply. 

Rafael could never understand how a day could feel like it was passing so slowly when he didn’t even have time to stop to eat anything more than the coffee Carmen pushed into his hands. But that day felt like an eternity, running around from his office to the station to the courthouse to track down judges to sign warrants, and back to his office again. And when he finally got home at three in the morning, exhausted, he knew that there was probably no chance of Gi-the man, Sonny, calling him before the case was over, which could be hours, days, weeks from now. 

He was brand new, Rafael had gleaned that much from Olivia, to their squad at least, but that was all anyone seemed to know about him. He was eager, a go getter, a little crass, and still had that terrible mustache. 

When Rafael finally laid down to close his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if Gio would have looked anything like Sonny. Tall, yes, the same blond hair and blue eyes, and that smile. It was all so familiar, but his face was different, more narrow, more slender. There was no way to be sure, Gio hadn’t made it to adulthood, and if he had, Rafael was certain there would be no Sonny. 

Rafael sighed, rolling onto his side. For all the physical similarities, he couldn’t help but wonder if Sonny was anything like the soulmate he had lost so many years ago. His mother’s words twinged with her Cuban staccato clave rang in his ears “the world hardens us all.” Sonny had spent the last thirty-three years growing up, changing, becoming someone who wasn’t Gio, who hadn’t shared any of those formative experiences with Rafael, someone who hadn’t witnessed his father grab him by his upper arm and throw him into his room. Maybe Sonny was his soulmate, but he didn’t _know_ the way Gio had. And Rafael, he had spent the last thirty-three years convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone, that he was fine alone. He wasn’t the same, optimistic, self assured little kid anymore either. 

A sharp ring pulled him out of his thoughts, and he reached for the phone sitting on his nightstand. He unplugged it carefully and frowned as he looked at the caller id, an unlisted number. He hoped it wasn’t another death threat, but better to find out. 

“Barba,” he answered, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he recognized the Staten Island accent immediately and sat straight up, the sleepy haze dissolving faster than even a double shot espresso could accomplish. 

“No, I hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but I wasn’t expecting your call tonight, honestly,” he admitted slowly. “I figured you were still on duty…” his voice trailed off, unsure. He thought back to how easily everything had just fallen into place when he met Gio, how they had just decided that soulmates was enough, that they were going to be best friends with out even exchanging so many words, but that was marred by the innocence of childhood. Things were different now, Rafael felt off kilter. 

“I mean, I’m on call,” Sonny replied. “I’m actually at an all night coffee shop to get some studying done,” he added quickly, and Rafael’s brows furrowed. Studying for what? The man was already a detective. “I know its late, and you’ve probably gotta get some sleep, but uh. I just wanted to hear your voice again.” Another current of electricity shot straight to Rafael’s stomach. The honesty and sincerity in his voice was something that he hadn’t experienced in the last thirty years, but he recognized it all too well. 

“What coffee shop?” Rafael asked, already standing up and walking to his closet. He couldn’t help himself. He’d waited thirty-three years for this, and as much as he wanted to tell himself that a few hours wouldn’t make much of a difference, he, better than anyone, knew how fleeting life could be. 

“Oh uh, you don’t have to, I just,” Sonny stuttered quickly. “I didn’t mean you had ta come down here or anything, I don’t want to drag you out of bed or anything Counselor, I just.” 

Rafael cut him off, not waiting for the babble to end on its own, “I know, I want to, where are you?”

“Corner of Lex and third, lil place called the Bottomless Mug.” Sonny replied quickly before they hung up the phone. 

Rafael stood in front of his closet doors, half cursing himself at his indecision. This was his soulmate he was going to meet, what did it matter if he showed up in jeans in a tee-shirt, the man had already seen him in one of his favorite suits. But it mattered, to Rafael at least, and he opted for a dark navy polo and dark wash jeans and his favorite comfortable loafers before climbing into a cab. 

His heart was pounding in his ears the whole way there. He had spent so much time debating whether reincarnated soulmates were even possible over the past few decades that he hadn’t even paused to consider what it would be like if he actually did meet Gio’s soul again. Was he supposed to tell Sonny that they had met before? Omission still seemed like lying, but Rafael couldn’t figure out how the words were supposed to go. He had all of this information, all of this history that Sonny had been part of, in a way, but had no memory of. It felt like an intrusion, a violation, like Rafael had caught a peek when he wasn’t supposed to. 

The cab ride wasn’t long enough for him to come to any sort of conclusion, and much faster than he would have liked, the cabbie gave him a dirty glare and a “we’re here, are you planning on getting out?” Rafael rolled his eyes and handed the driver a fifty. 

“Keep the change,” maybe the extra thirty bucks would make him rethink the attitude, but the driver just sped off when Rafael closed the door, leaving him to stand in front of the coffee shop, glancing in the darkened windows. He hesitated, but only for a moment. He had been waiting for this for far too long to let a glass door intimidate him. 

He took a few steps forward and reached for the handle, swinging it open with a little more force than was probably necessary, and his eyes scanned the room quickly. It was mostly empty, so it wasn’t difficult to find the detective, head buried in some books in a booth at the back corner of the room. He walked over slowly and slid into the seat across from him. 

“What are you studying?” Rafael asked, and the man’s gaze shot up with surprise, only just realizing that he wasn’t alone anymore. 

“Evidence,” Sonny replied, lifting up the textbook. Rafael’s brows furrowed again. 

“What for?” 

“I’m in night school at Fordham Law, 2L,” Sonny grinned sheepishly, closing the textbook and sitting it on the stack of others. Rafael could feel his heart physically ache. It was like staring into a time machine. Sonny didn’t look like Gio in many ways, but he could see him in his smile, the way it reached all the way to his eyes, and that self-deprecating look. 

“Impressive,” Rafael muttered, but it came out a little more sarcastic than he intended. The tone didn’t seem to phase the detective though. 

“I heard you went to Harvard, now that’s impressive,” the expression on Sonny’s face reminded him of a golden retriever, a little dopey, very excitable, would do anything for a bit of praise. 

“But that’s not really what we’re here to talk about, is it?” Rafael tore his eyes away from the sandy blond man in front of him, and he rubbed his damp palms over his thighs. 

“Isn’t it? I mean, I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates, they say there’s no way to know for sure you know? But everyone who has found one says that they just knew, in that instant everything became so clear… so I mean, it seems like that to me, but I just, I don’t know how to do this, I just wanted to get to know you,” Sonny babbled, and Rafael found himself distracted by the mustache for just a grim second before softening. 

“We are,” Rafael nodded affirmatively. “I’m certain of that much.”

That shut Sonny up. 

“But we need to talk, or, I guess, more specifically I have something to say, and I’m not sure really how to say it, because its going to sound crazy.”

Sonny frowned, tilted his head to the side and reached his hand out, offering it to Rafael. The ADA gingerly lifted his hand from his thigh and took Sonny’s warm hand in his. “Well you’re stuck with me, right, even if you’re crazy.”

Rafael sucked in a sharp breath, of all the words in the English language, that was what Sonny had chosen to use. You’re stuck with me. He could hear it echo, in Gio’s voice. 

“We’ve met before,” Rafael started softly, not trusting his voice not to crack. 

“No I’m sure we’ve never-” Sonny started but Rafael cut him off quickly with a sharp squeeze of his hand. 

“You’ve heard the stories, of course, I’m sure you have, about souls being reincarnated?” Rafael didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I met my soulmate when I was five years old,” he began, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. His hands trembled as he pulled a tattered photo out of one of the slots. “His name was Giovanni Mancuso, and I was blessed with six, short years with him before he he was killed,” he held the photo out to Sonny, who took it carefully, gingerly. “He was shot in a drive by on February 28th, 1981.” He wanted to ask, but he didn’t need to. 

“That’s my birthday,” Sonny murmured as he looked at the photograph of the two young boys, the dark brunette so easily recognizable as the man sitting in front of him, and the little blond, if Sonny hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was a picture of him. 

“I’ve been waiting for you, every second since that day,” Rafael admitted, letting his hands rest on top of Sonny’s. 

And Sonny just looked up at him, eyes blue and wide, shining with unshed tears, “I remember you.”


End file.
